


Beasts of Shadow, Wood and Blood

by NemiWrites



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-05-01 14:19:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5209073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NemiWrites/pseuds/NemiWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A rough frontierswoman, by the assumed name of Connor, is sent on a secret mission by the British to keep on eye on Simcoe as he takes command of the Queen's Rangers. Only in it for the money she has no problem turning double agent when the Captain discovers her, but soon balancing her lies becomes more difficult than she ever imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beasts of Shadow, Wood and Blood

“Well, that’s just excessive.”

 

Connor frowned to herself as she watched Captain Simcoe throw the freshly cut-off piece of hair and skin at the whimpering man he had just scalped with his own knife. Surely beating his attacker as handily as he had done, the captain could have shown some clemency. This was barbaric behaviour for an officer. Still it was with a strange sense of detachment that she noted how little blood there was, how utterly insignificant the wound looked from this far away. Her own scar, a long knife wound running along the right side of her skull, twinged in sympathy while she watched the tall ginger officer address his new men before he abruptly turned to the moaning heap at his feet again. She rubbed at the scabbing above her right eye in irritation, while Simcoe took up the fallen pistol and leveled it at the fallen man’s head.

 

Although she should have been prepared for it, the shot surprised her and for a moment the irrational fear that he might have seen her coursed through her. She pressed herself closer to the trunk, assuring herself with the rough texture of the bark, while the smoke from the pistol wafted among the trees and motionless men in the clearing. Her heartbeat slowly returning to normal, Connor dragged a still shaking hand through her short hair and resumed her musing. Was he a maniac? She could see why the bigwigs would want an eye on the man if this was how his tenure as leader of the Queen’s Rangers started out.

  


“ _Men change if you lift them up into a position of authority, especially if their commanding officer is days away. Even the most civilized can become beasts in the wild.”_

_She ignored the probably unintended insult to her own upbringing at the frontier._

_“He’ll still be without supervision,since he won’t know I’m there,” Connor felt compelled to point out instead, while taking a swig from her ale. Force of habit had driven her to use her growling male voice, and it was wreaking havoc on her vocal cords._

_“Ah yes, this is just intended to be a temporary situation. If he behaves appropriately, you will soon be able to abort your mission. And if he indeed gets out of control, Major Andre will intervene. You'll just have to be his eyes for the moment.”_

 

She had been less than keen on this assignment. Her last mission for Captain Greene had nearly gotten her head sliced open and she doubted that tracking a bloodcrazed officer would be any safer. But Greene paid well, and had no qualms about employing somebody like her. So she had agreed to his offer, they had arranged their means of communication and he had given her vague directions of where Simcoe would go after his business in the city had been concluded..

 

After the swift hiding of her advance fee for safekeeping and gathering of her supplies, she left for the open countryside. Once on the road it had taken her little time to find out where a small group of Queen’s Rangers were camping out in the forest.

She had taken great care in selecting and preparing her perch to insure that she was both well hidden and able to watch the comings and goings of the ragtag group of men. Boring, but necessary work. Simcoe’s early arrival had been a pleasant surprise at the time, saving her several more days of waiting in her tree, trying to find new ways of calling the Queen’s Rangers undisciplined.

Now she was annoyed that she had been so cautious when choosing her hiding spot. While she had good visibility, she hadn’t been able to hear what the men had said to each other before their violent encounter. From her position it had simply looked like a lot of male posturing, but she was quite sure that she could not write that into her report of today. Greene expected her to be precise and offer useful insights, not quips.

  


_“The Major wants to know what Simcoe does and how he does it. How does he train his troops? Does he correspond with anybody?”_

_“I see. You want me to sneak into his tent to look at his diary too while I am at it?”_

_“That is why I hired you. I know that you will be up to the task:”_

_“No, you hired me because you pity me and because you know that I have to take your secrets to the grave. But I’ll take the compliment nonetheless.”_

  


As far as she could tell, Simcoe had taken a possibly dangerous situation and defused it not just with a show of skill, but by making his men fear for their lives. Rather than follow him into battle, the Rangers would probably knife him in the back as soon as he laid his head down to rest. Bloody idiot. She’d think on how to put the sentiment into appropriate words in her report later.

 

He might regret his harsh actions later, but for now, Captain Simcoe seemed to have cowed his Rangers to his satisfaction as they noisily fell in line behind him. An uncomfortable moment passed before Simcoe turned around and issued some orders, his delicate high-pitched voice ringing loud and clear over the clearing. The men dispersed to pick up their meager possessions, while their new captain returned to his horse and, ridiculous hat in place, mounted.

 

Connor decided that the flurry of activity would afford her enough coverage to risk getting down from her tree, the faint sounds of her climbing mixing into the noise of men collecting their weapons, tents and cookery. As she dropped to the ground, Connor immediately sunk down to her hands and knees, just in case the faint thud had been heard. Paranoid or not, she had no intention of ending up at the business end of Simcoe’s pistol. He might look foppish, but that man was vicious. She would have to keep that in mind at all times.

 

She waited in that crouched position for a while, the smell of damp earth in her nose and her knees beginning to hurt, until she heard the noises from the group change and finally fade. Alright, she should be safe now. Stalking through the undergrowth she fetched her pack and absentmindedly brushed off her brown waistcoat and rough jacket, while moving towards the clearing. As she looked around to check whether the Rangers had left behind something useful, she noticed that they had left behind the body. “Sorry stranger.”, she muttered, crossing herself, “I’d bury you if I had a shovel.” Instead she offered a quick prayer for the young foolish man, before adjusting the straps of her bag and turning away. Maybe Greene would send somebody to give the poor sod a proper burial, if his body hadn’t been dragged off by wild animals until then.

  
It didn’t take Connor long to pick up the Ranger’s trail and as she nibbled on a piece of hardtack she prepared for a long march.


End file.
